st(r)ay
by therewithasmile
Summary: All they've ever known was their meisters. While Ox and Kim are off doing who knows what, the last place Jacqueline thought she'd find camaraderie was with Harvar. From there, it grew into something even bigger, more than she could've ever bargained for. A love story featuring the slow burn, blossoming between two people who will never be able to put each other first. Resbang 2015.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_** _Hey. It's been a long time since I've posted in the Jackie/Harvar fandom - small as we are, we are mighty! I've been wanting to write a longfic for them for a while, ever since I first published Relief. This is what came of it - I wanted to do something less explicit and more family friendly, but the plot threads of how they get together are the same regardless if Relief had taken place or not. I wanted a realistic and believable recounting of how I believe they'd get together, and their turmoils due to their responsibilities not only as weapons, but weapons whose meisters are involved. I hope I did these two justice, and that you enjoy my headcanons for their personalities._

 _Thank you so much to K and Lucy for the eyes, and to my amazingly talented and fabulous partner Rei (xxrei42xx on tumblr) for her art - cover image by her. Please go check out the other art pieces that accompany this piece!_

 _Without further ado, please enjoy._

* * *

She took a breath, raised her fist, and knocked once on the door. The wood creaked as it swung open. His face peeked around the door first, signature sunglasses perched on his nose, before the orange-tinted irises rolled from her to beyond.

"Kim's here," Harvar called, not bothering to turn. He opened the door a little wider, offering a glimpse into his modern apartment. Jacqueline blinked. They had a new couch, she noticed, but she said nothing as her pink-haired meister nudged her aside.

"I'll be back tonight," said Kim, her eyes wide and excited - in the very way that Jacqueline knew meant her partner was lying. But she didn't bother with a rebuttal; when Kim returned early in the morning and she'd stillbe awake, she would pretend that she believed Kim's hasty excuses ('Oh, I lost track of time!' or even 'Our reservation ran late!') and she wouldn't question when her meister made a beeline for the shower.

So Jacqueline merely nodded as her meister disappeared into the apartment. Her eyes caught Harvar's once, and he gently shut the door behind him.

...

 _st(r)ay._

 _..._

Wake up. Go to school. Look at assignments on the board, and maybe, if she were lucky, they'd go on a mission. If not, go home, sleep. Rinse, repeat. Life as usual in Shibusen, albeit quieter since the battle on the moon. Jackie supposed the only new part in her routine was the lack of light in the sky at night, and though it should've been unsettling, to her it was almost soothing. A cool blanket in the air, unbroken save for the twinkling of the occasional star that still had its light.

Aside from that, nothing had changed. Not when Jacqueline straightened her books, placed a hand on her meister's shoulder, and poured the contents of her study back into her bag.

"I'm awake," Kim said, catching Jackie off-guard, her hand outstretched and ready to shake her meister once more. Okay, maybe that was new. As the pink-haired meister rose from her chair, Jackie reached and caught the slipping bag before it fell gracelessly to the floor. Kim only blinked apologetically as the Demon Lantern handed her meister her bag. "Now I'm awake," she said, undeterred.

"Good," Jackie responded as she slipped her own bag over her shoulders. They were due to look at the board anyway, to see what jobs were there and available to take. The last mission they'd went on was a couple weeks ago, which in itself wasn't a rarity since the defeat of Asura. Besides, Kid had attempted to disperse some of the missions amongst the lower EAT member students, seeing as the Spartoi team would usually claim missions that would've lead to promotions otherwise.

Once they were out in the halls, however, Kim's hesitation was much too obvious for her, of all people, to pass up. Jackie paused, cocking her head to the side. What was once a bite of jealousy was now only a sore ache, a cross between amusement and annoyance; the latter more out of the loss of a mission prospect as opposed to what it used to be.

"You have a date with Ox."

"I'd meant to tell you earlier, I swear." Kim's voice wasn't apologetic, and Jackie was thankful for it. Besides, as much as they were partners, Kim was partnered with someone else - and as it were, Kid _did_ say he wanted Spartoi to take a bit of a break in respect to the backlog of promotions.

"It's okay, Kim." Jacqueline shrugged and laid a hand against her friend's forearm. There was a part of her that was astounded at how readily she accepted the fact - whereas when they'd begun to date, there was even more resentment for the Lightning Spear meister than _before_ , when he'd harmlessly flirted with Kim.

That was a long time ago.

"I'll walk you," Jacqueline offered instead.

Kim gave her a quick, fleeting smile, one that once used to stir her core. Now, it still brought forth a surge of warmth, a bubble of comfort that she wasn't sure was due to romantic feelings or otherwise. Being with Kim was _comfortable -_ like a small flame in her heart. It'd always been like that, somewhat inseparable from the same pleasantness that came with their resonance. Maybe one fueled the other - she didn't know - but now, she was mildly content. At least she could walk her there and Kim's hand around hers was secure. Comforting.

Jacqueline felt like she was at _home_.

 **...**

The walk was cool, pleasant - mostly containing idle conversations about their theories of who would be the next promoted. The streets of Death City were as quiet as Death City could be. Ever since that night, that huge fight that changed the world, Jackie had thought more things would reflect such a change. And despite the buzz in the air, at least Death City hadn't really morphed into something unrecognizable. The city had lost its God, its protector, but the majority of the citizens remained oblivious. While Lord Death's passing was definitely a change for Shibusen, the proceedings remained the same. Classes were running, missions were handed out, meetings and disciplinary actions were still held.

Aside from that, nothing had changed.

Even before Kim froze, Jacqueline could already read the intent in her meister's hand.

Just like that, so easily, she let go.

There was still warmth in the base of her stomach, a side effect from the resonance, but the _lack of it_ in her hand was always a little sad. Maybe it was within her nature - Jacqueline the Demon Lantern, who craved warmth and heat like no other. She flexed her hand once, watching as the ligaments rolled with the movement. Then she stuffed it in her pocket.

Jacqueline watched Kim's cotton candy hair move away from her, to equally ostentatious hair from across the street. There was something vaguely melancholy as she watched their hands link, the warmth she craved denied as they walked away.

A similar distance away from the couple stood Harvar, also watching momentarily, until Ox turned and the weapon gave a firm nod. Jacqueline didn't realize she was gawking until the Lightning Spear gave his meister a quick pat on the shoulder, and locked gazes with her.

Call it resonance, call it the weapon within him and the strange connection that came with kinship, but a small jolt of electricity hit her spine. Like he'd shocked her. The phantom feeling from when he hadstill resonated within her. At the time, the voltage was adjusted to knock her out - and it did, for she vaguely remembered waking up later in a new location, with Kim and Ox hovering over her as Harvar stood a ways away.

Now, he walked towards her, and fast.

There wasn't a smile on his face, no friendly greeting aside from the mild warmth in his eyes that showed that, at least, he acknowledged her presence.

She raised a hand in greeting, and he did the same.

Then he lightly brushed past her. Easily, casually, and definitely not meant taken offensively. But a small part of her _was,_ because it wasn't as if they hadn't had anything in common. They'd been in the same team for years now, and have seen each other thanks to their meisters, certainly more than they would've otherwise. And they've had their fair shares of awkward silences as their meisters met, blushing and stammering.

But he wasn't one to make small talk.

Nor was she, really.

So a bigger part of her was uncaring, as he'd been. They'd both only had business here with their meisters anyway.

Regardless, Jackie couldn't help but place a hand where his shirt had brushed hers, where a small spark had fizzled through her system, not unpleasant, but not the opposite either. It was another side effect from being near a conductor of electricity - but it was the prickling heat that lingered she was more interested in. It was warm, lively, and entirely _not_ homey as Kim's hand was.

It was different, like a blue flame.

Truthfully, the only fire Jackie knew how to handle had always been orange.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time they talked was awkward. Maybe it was self-perpetrated in retrospect - beneath those orange shades, Jacqueline could never quite get an accurate read on him. His expression was always cool, lofty, though they sparked with passion from time to time. As for her, she was simply _warm_. Maybe it came with being in the presence of another weapon - and an electric one, at that. It always ended in fire, whenever they'd talk, they'd make contact.

So maybe this is why she talked to him. After she'd sent Kim on her way, Ox at her side, the silence stretched between them. The side of her arm felt numb, and Jacqueline was sure if she looked, she'd see the hairs on her arm raise from the mere proximity to the Lightning Spear.

It was like a cycle of warmth, from small tingles, to dissolving into fire. Suddenly, she found the lack of heat in her palms trivial.

But the silence wore on. Truthfully, Jacqueline was comfortable with that; so whatever compelled her to speak was alien to her.

"Why don't we grab coffee?"

The strangest part of it all, though, was the fact that he'd agreed to it. Voiced his agreement, too - and he'd held open the door to the little cafe that was their meister's meeting spot. It was warm, decorated in hues of yellows and greens and it clashed but it felt _right_ ; it was Death City, and within its borders was a familiar cacophony. She ordered her coffee and made sure it was extra hot before the two of them ducked outside the cafe and into the patio.

And there was silence.

But it wasn't uncomfortable. Far from it, actually. After the fiasco that was Baba Yaga, there was a period of time where it was hard to look him or Ox in the eye. That, in combination with the entire Crona situation - it all felt so long ago. Jacqueline could still feel the sparks in the atmosphere, but as it touched her skin, it dispersed into warmth instead. A warmth she craved.

If he noticed, he made no motion of it. Instead, he played idly with the side of his drink sleeve. The idle motion began to frustrate Jacqueline. She began to resent the flush she got from him, the unnatural prickling that dissolved into pools of liquid fire, as if someone had pressed hot fingers against her skin in something not quite an embrace. Jacqueline pressed both her hands against her coffee, as if it could displace the unnatural fire in her palms. As if the warmth of the cup would replace the odd jitteriness that lived at the edges of her fingertips.

Neither worked.

Harvar, as normal, looked unfazed. She watched as his eyes swept the patio, before settling to his own black coffee. She watched as he raised the cup to his lips, taking a small sip. She watched as his eyes lifted from the contents of his drink, before they slid over and beyond her shoulder, taking one long sweep to the side, before they snapped back onto hers.

"What?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Nothing," he said just as easily. Jacqueline was sure if she were someone _un_ familiar to him, he wouldn't have even graced them with a response. The sentiment settled warmly in her stomach; a fair portion of her was happy, if not proud, to call herself his friend.

Moments slid by. Soon she could no longer ignore his hand, resting idly against the table, each finger curved in a natural arch. Something as simple as that - a casual hand, something so trivial - emitted such _warmth_. Perhaps it was her sensitivity to heat, but she could almost feel the sparks shooting from his fingertips.

It wasn't that Jacqueline didn't like silence - so for the third time, when words came from her throat before she could think about it, a genuine part of her was surprised - more than she let on, more than she let herself acknowledge. It was stupid question, too - she might as well have asked about the weather. About his hunt for souls. About anything, really, and at this point she might as well have brought up the time he tried to kill her. So why, of all things, did she choose to start to talk about her meister? She muttered an apology on Kim's behalf - for what, Jackie wasn't sure, but she was certainthere was at least something Harvar could justify as being the improvised conversation-filler. She saw his lip twitch, just a small upturn in the corner, and his fingers drummed once in a cascading sequence before he waved her off. Instead, a similar apology came from his own mouth, one that Jackie couldn't help but suspect was of the same, nonspecific intention as hers.

"Don't worry about it," she said, and she hoped he could hear the double meaning in her words. She gave him a wry smile instead. He watched for a moment longer, and they both simultaneously reached for their coffee.

As a topic, school was trivial, and if anything else was in common, it was their meisters. It was easy to talk about Kim. Harvar responded in turn, offering input, his lower voice thrumming until it somehow slid seamlessly into the ambiance of the twilit patio.

Jacqueline liked talking to him; that much she couldn't deny. It'd never been a conscious decision, but there was somethingthat compelled her to spend the evening with him beyond the necessity that came with their meisters. The notion of it all lingered on Jacqueline's mind, well after she'd paid her bill and they'd said their goodbyes. She let her mind stray a moment afterward, if only to really relish in the last few dissipating droplets of heat like splashes rippling back into an ocean, and for several moments, the strength of the sensation overwhelmed her. She hadn't faced many other heat-based Weapons in her past, but Harvar's was definitely one of the most poignant.

And the same, blue tinged heat spread to her cheeks; drowning out her usual flush with its unusual grasp, before it receded, like the ebb and flow of a tide.

Jacqueline took a breath, turned on her heel, and walked away.

 **...**

Their eyes collided, and once more, sparks erupted through and down her spine.

Of course, the interaction, the _feeling,_ went unnoticed by others as their meisters chatted away. Their distance mirrored each other: a step to the right and behind each of their meisters, the perfect proximity for privacy, and yet, if there were trouble, room to grab them and transform.

But their high alerts also went unnoticed by their meisters.

So they talked instead, their disjointed conversation rhythm somehow a norm - Ox talked, Kim responded. She and Harvar didn't even have that, Jacqueline thought idly, but then his chocolate-tinged-orange eyes again caught hers. Warm. Electrifying. Almost dangerous. Of course the Lightning Spear had this effect on people; even if Harvar wasn't, well, Harvar, he'd still have this presence - this highly _untouchable_ presence, as he hovered semi-protectively around his meister.

And yet, Jacqueline didn't believe in that.

She didn't really know _when_ that opinion of him changed. Perhaps it was when she managed to catch glimpses of his surprisingly human interaction with his meister through their window before knocking on their door to drop off Kim. Perhaps it came from his muted conversations with Ox and occasionally Stein. Perhaps it came with the cup of coffee they shared, and though their words were few, somehow she knew he was _there._

Perhaps it came when she could very clearly feel his mild distressas he'd insisted, _hard_ , to end her, so many years ago; Jacqueline never held against him.

That time, if anything, had only earned him more respect. Jacqueline never did tell Kim of his murderous intent - her meister would be _furious_ \- and she still wasn't sure if it were due to the mind control machine that had her grudgingly _respectful_ to his dedication. But even then, she'd felt the hesitance he refused to acknowledge, the sudden need to stick to his ideals and truths lest he lose it all in a momentary lapse of judgement.

Returning to the present, Jacqueline gave one, small nod.

If he were surprised or anything _,_ his composed expression didn't change. But he returned the gesture, just before his lips twitched into a minute smile.

"You're happy," Kim said, a few paces and several moments later, and her meister was mildly amused. She was gloating. Jacqueline knew, as easily as she could read her meister, she could do just the same back to her.

Jacqueline inhaled. There was no use lying to Kim.

"I am."

And she let the small triumph manifest itself into a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

One person passed, then another, but Jacqueline wasn't watching. Not really. She noted some hair colours - blonde and white, brunette and black, red and gold, black and blue - pass by in pairs, one after another. Jacqueline sighed, her eyes rolling lower, to the passerby's clothes this time. She didn't bother staring for too long; she watched just enough to glimpse, enough to remember, before they disappeared like that, so easily, slipped back into the crowd - effortless.

Jacqueline feltthe presence beside her before actually seeing him. It was the same blue flame in her chest, the fire that she noticed she could pick out more easily than before.

He reclined, his back touching the cool wall of Shibusen. His usual, orange tinted aviators perched on his nose, Harvar didn't bother with a greeting. Not that Jacqueline minded, not at this point.

"Kim's still at her locker," she said as Harvar blinked. "She's probably going to take another five minutes." He kept his eyes transfixed across from their position. "I saw Ox going up to her, too."

He nodded. "Yeah. I _almost_ pointed her out to him."

"It's hard not to miss Kim," Jacqueline said lowly, mostly to herself. But he hummed in response.

They lapsed back into silence.

It was _easy_ , so frighteningly easy, and his flame, his soul, was doubly easy to latch onto. Where it was easy, it was also different; it - they - didn't perfectly _fit_ the same way she did with Kim. There weren't the perfect notches that slid into each other's gaps when they resonated; wasn't the perfect clicking of puzzle pieces meant for each other; no magnetic pull that resulted in warm, comfortable, _homey_ heat. He prickled. _His_ didn't fit. Yet Jacqueline felt herself trying, more than she'd expected: wanting to fit, wanting to work, wanting to soak every spark - each little jolt that gave her the heat she craved - as it fizzled out into the fire, blue flames, that were so incredibly addicting to her never-fully sated hunger.

And so they watched.

Minutes flashed by, but it was all a blur to her. Soon she'd forgotten she was waiting for Kim at all. Harvar certainly didn't bring it up - and the occasional times she slipped a glance, his eyes were fixed forward, following their peers. It was only his voice that broke the silence, perhaps for the first time since they'd been alone together - alone for moments longer than the few minutes they milled about awkwardly as their meisters went about their business.

"Do you draw?"

"Do I - what?" Her words sounded strangely thick in her throat. And as she expected, he was still facing forward; Harvar didn't even bother turning to look at her.

"Do you draw?" He repeated, without hesitation, without even batting his eye.

Jacqueline swallowed. "No." She watched as his interest waned - though it was through the tinted lens and the lack of eye contact, did she see his expression soften, relax. And then she spoke up a little more. "I watch people. Memorize them, so to speak."

He was listening now, she realized, as he straightened, his head half-turned towards her. She continued. "I've learned to memorize what people look like, I suppose. Hair. Clothes." Her words were embarrassed, like molasses, as if she were admitting a grave secret. In a way, she was. Harvar, if anything, shifted. His eyes flitted to hers once - quickly, before they scampered away. Jacqueline inhaled once more. "It's in case something - well, happened."

As usual, his eye contact was electrifying. Two parts due to his affinity to the element, one part entirely something else, but he held her gaze - another first, but only to this conversation. There it was again, the fire in the pits of her stomach.

"It's because of the whole," Jacqueline faltered. It wasn't a secret anymore that her meister was a witch. She no longer had to look out for Kim, no longer had to remain on high alert, ready to transform if even _one_ of their peers had sniffed out her meister for who she truly was. Not that Kim ever needed the help, but still - if legal issues were ever brought forth, if she ever need to speak to Lord Death about an incident - "- well, it doesn't matter. Anymore."

Harvar raised an eyebrow. "I just like watching people, that's all," he offered simply, a tiny hint of an amused grin on his face.

Jacqueline exhaled, her breath long and unbroken, something she didn't realize she was holding. Suddenly feeling drained, she sagged a little in her seat, and Harvar made no motion to acknowledge it. But he shifted, minutely, and Jacqueline let her concentration slip away. Kim and Ox must've left by now. She supposed Harvar probably knew that, too. His apparent eternal uncaringness wasn't true to his soul, Jackie knew him well enough to be sure of that, so his current nonchalance definitely wasn't a facade. He was comfortable - and a small part of her felt a flare of pride at the thought.

A sudden, single sensation jolted her back to awareness, the feeling of sparks jumping from skin to skin sinking deep within her. And before Jacqueline could even consciously react, her hand retracted quickly, violently, as the spark fizzled into spreading heat. His own fingers remained there, just mere centimeters away from where her hand had been previously, resting casually - as if nothing happened.

Jacqueline placed her hand down, the heat still a phantom sensation to her fingertips. "Sorry," she said after a while.

But she wasn't. And judging by his silence, he wasn't, either.

 **...**

There was no response, for longer than she expected. Perhaps it were because Harvar didn't have any indication of anyone coming over. That much was true - this visit wasn't planned, unlike all the other ones when she dropped off her meister to his. But he appeared at the door regardless, his sunglasses surprisingly absent from his face.

"... Jackie?"

And she suddenly felt nervous - which made no sense, because it was _Harvar_. Kim hadn't exactly encouraged this decision, but she did support it. If anything, Jacqueline felt awkward. She swallowed thickly, pushing through her sudden irrational emotions. _It was Harvar._ "May I?" Even her words sounded disconnected to her consciousness.

But he stepped aside, shoving his hands in his pockets as his foot held the door.

At least she didn't have to explain why she were here - that much was already done by Ox. The place was familiar, but it wasn't as if Jacqueline had come for a leisurely visit. Sure, the interior of the Ox-Harvar residence hadn't changed in the year their meisters had been dating, yet she felt out of place. The white couches seemed toostiff, and vaguely Jacqueline noted how cleanit was compared to her place - and _that_ wasn't even, by any means, messy.

"Water?" Harvar suddenly offered. His voice never wavered, unchanging - when she looked, his expression remained a careful neutral, as if she hadn't just shown up at his door out of the blue. But Jacqueline wasn't upset; his casual indifference - acceptance? - was simply another facet of Harvar, one that she couldn't help but feel mildly envious for.

The sentiment didn't leave her mind as she nodded.

A moment later and, cool glass of the liquid in her hand, Jacqueline leaned into the couch. The tension was still layered thick, snapping and sparking, more poignant than before. She took a sip of water, helping to at least sate the crazy and sudden desire for warmth. She was always like this, like a leech, wanting more _heat._

The scary part was Harvar could offer all of that.

"Everything okay?" His voice roused her from her thoughts, and to her surprise, she could detect a veil of concern. _Thin_. But it was there - and that's what mattered, in Harvar's otherwise unexpressive tone.

Jacqueline gripped the glass with both hands, the coolness seeping into her palms. "Yeah - everything's fine. Well, aside from the fact I don't want to … _be_ there." And her response earned a low chuckle, a brief half-smile that played at his lips. The warm sound spurred her on. "How do you do it?"

The Lightning Spear leaned back into his couch. "Loud music."

It was Jacqueline's turn to chuckle. "Asshole."

"They leave me no choice," he responded ruthlessly. But something within him betrayed his intent - there was a tinge of amusement, and if anything, an odd fondness. Normally, it would've been amongst the stranger things she could find in Harvar, but she recognized that sentiment. It was the same she felt for Kim, the same _every_ weapon felt for their meister. Harvar may try to maintain neutrality, but to her oddly adept ears, she could at least vouch for his dedication toward Ox - no matter the circumstance, apparently.

"You?"

A rush of emotion warmed Jacqueline; having him _continue_ the conversation was still a relatively new concept.

"I go on a run."

"For three hours."

"I take pit stops," she supplied. And still, somehow, _miraculously,_ he had a little grin on the corner of his mouth.

They sank into silence once more, and it was comfortable. Familiar, in a different way from Kim's, yet she still liked the time they spent together. Even if the prickling of heat was strange, it wasn't _uncomfortable._

And the words felt foreign, disembodied, but for once, Jacqueline actually was particularly aware of what she were saying.

"If you ever -"

"I know, you too."

And with that, Harvar turned on the TV. Whatever distraction he played in the background, it was no different from people watching. People watching with Harvar was all a distraction, an activity that they shared together more often than Jacqueline ever expected. There was more there: the kinship, the mutuality, the unspoken agreements between them; everything Jacqueline had, up until now, only shared with Kim.

What she felt was certainly more than gratitude towards his hospitality. It was warm, prickly, and whether that was supplemented by his sparking and snapping atmosphere or otherwise, she didn't know.

All Jacqueline _did_ know was when the tips of his fingers knocked against hers, she still felt similar jolts through her spine. And she was sure he was aware of it; something about his position and his head and his little _smile_ told her everything she needed.

Jacqueline exhaled.

This time, she never withdrew.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you sure you don't want to take any with you?"

Harvar's pace didn't waver as he laced his shoes. He took a few deliberate moments to rock on his feet, as if testing the soles. Then he straightened, satisfied, before finally turning around. "You can keep the Chinese," he said curtly. Yet his words were tinged with warmth, surprisingly modestly.

Jacqueline shrugged, letting her hand slip from her fridge. She sautered up to him as he shrugged on a jacket, offering a smile. Once again, the offer to crash on the couch died on her lips - as their meister's dates went on later and later, so did their evenings together. What started as coffee somehow grew to movies and terrible TV shows on either her or his couch. But the logical next step always fizzed out before reaching fruition.

Both of them knew it. Which is why they hadn't asked. Not yet.

Jackie crossed her arms as he wrapped a scarf around his neck. "Warm enough?"

Harvar's eyes caught hers, and for a second she can hear the unspoken words that reflected in his eyes. A snarky comment about her, her _warmth_ , but that, too, was never quite spoken. "I'll manage," he said instead, and if there was something like disappointment that lived in her system, it was quickly gone as he pressed his hands into hers. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Her mind whirred; she wasn't aware of any other dates planned for the next day. And then heat flooded her cheeks, and Jackie could only hope she didn't turn an uncharacteristically brilliant shade of red. Sometimes she felt as if her face didn't emote at all, yet this time, she wondered if he could read the surprise on her features, and then the embarrassment.

Of course he'd see her tomorrow. They had school the next day.

So she gave a quick ' _of course'._ Jackie knew he wasn't a speech specialist by any means, but she swore she saw the corner of his lip twitch. It reached his eyes, changing the chocolate to molten, the facade cracking before her.

And as she closed the door behind his retreating figure, Jackie let her fingers rest against the heavy wood. The pinpricks of heat danced from her spine to her fingertips, generated by their contact, his presence. She closed her eyes as she felt the sparks displace from her into the doorframe. For much longer than she'd like to admit, Jackie wondered if he, too, was able to discern things in the other's voice that only their meisters could.

 **...**

She got the text message just as she left the classroom, ironically the only one she didn't share with Kim. Her meister had a spare, perfectly planned to align with Ox's.

 _Can you come home?_

The words were burned into her mind, and for a moment, Jacqueline was scared. So scared. Peace had been present, but it'd been unstable, in a flux. People may have called Harvar the ruthless one, but Jackie was the prepared one. The _ready_ one. The paranoid one, sure, maybe, but how was that a bad thing, if her meister was in danger?

Too soon. _Too soon,_ she repeated in her mind as she ran outside. She didn't mind the breathlessness, the sweat that clung to her bangs and stuck them against her forehead. She didn't mind the heat that pulsated at her fingers, around her neck and in her temples. _Too soon,_ the peace wasn't perfect - and this was a testament. What if, _what if -_ Jackie shoved the intruding thought as far from her mind as she could.

Kim was in the lobby, her voice low. Her pink hair was visible above the couch, as well as two, perfectly straight, protruding hair-spikes that she only knew too well. Jacqueline paused and heaved a breath, which were harder to take than she would've expected.

"Are you okay?" The words tumbled from her lips, sloppy and reckless.

Her meister twisted her head. "I'm -" Kim faltered. " _We're -_ leaving." She threw Ox a scathing look, so full of _anger_ that it made even Jackie recoil. Ox seemed to take a similar stance; his mouth fell open, something vaguely like her meister's name on his lips, but the person in question turned her head pointedly. "Let's go." And then her fingers snaked around her wrist, gently yet firmly guiding Jacqueline with her.

The Demon Lantern shot a helpless glance behind her, then to the door. Ox didcall Kim's name then, but her meister had stubbornly set her eyes forward. _Poor guy._

And as she stormed off, she caught sight of his white jacket. Black hair, orange sunglasses. Harvar strode up to his meister, hands in his pockets, talking lowly and incomprehensibly from their distance.

Then his eyes caught hers, and she felt the same prickly heat attack her spine.

They stared a moment longer. Somethingwithin her stirred; not quite defiance, but it was if she were reaching out. Just like that, there was contact; she understood. It only took that look. She understood.

 _They'd have to talk._

"Come on, Kim." Jacqueline carefully maneuvered their hands so she was leading instead, and she concentrated hard on her own fluttering heart instead of her meister's. But whether her staccato beat was collateral from Kim, or it solely belonged to her, she didn't know. She never knew. At this point, she didn't _care_. But her heart thumped painfully in her chest, her emotions in turmoil, and the last thing she remembered was his lingering stare.

 **...**

"Hey." His voice was low, unassuming.

"Hey," she responded, equally lowly, and she took up the spot beside him.

It was strange. They certainly didn't plan for this encounter. Yet here they were: as casually as they had several instances before, perched at their favourite spot one of the more crowded corridors within Shibusen. It would be painfully easy to return back into old habits, to relish in the odd if not prickly tranquility that was his presence. To let everything go: to slip into a passive state and merely watch the people go by. But she wasn't calm - not since the fight, especially not now, when her heartbeat tripled once more. Not calm, as heat rose from her core, as the outmost edges of her body _craved_ his flickering, blue warmth - as the noise in her heart became unbearable, _painful._

It was adrenaline, exhaustion, _fear;_ an exhilarating fear, quite different from the time he'd threatened her life.

Harvar was overwhelming. Despite his quiet demeanour, his serious and calm composure, he was _overwhelming._ And for the first time, their silence wasn't peaceful. It wasn't relaxing. Instead, tension crackled between them, vicarious sparks attacking their spines relentlessly, dissolving into sticky and barbed heat.

They were too much like their meisters.

Words weren't Jackie's go to. It wasn't the way they worked. Yet her brain thrashed, fighting for something to say, to describe what she _felt_. It was painful, it was tangible - she could feel it in her throat, like a lump, swallowing her words against her volition. Every time she could even begin to identify the emotion in her body, the syllables died in her throat. She merely sat, like a wavering flame, unsure if she wanted to burn or snuff out entirely.

"I like you."

His voice could have been part of the ambiance, yet it still managed to catch her by surprise. His words were sincere - they'd never been more before. And they were warm. So warm that she could almost feel it, and yet it was never _right_ ; it prickled and stung but it was _there_ , fiery, in no means safe.

Those three words were strong. Harvar's eyes said everything - it was stronger than _liking_ , it was so much more. But it was all he could ever allow.

Jackie inhaled.

"I know," she responded, and she couldn't get the damn tremor out of her voice. Jackie met his gaze evenly. Behind the tinted lenses, she could see the emotion in his gaze, in the dark brown irises she didn't realize she found comfort in.

But it was all she needed to know, for his stare held the words she couldn't say - and in some sick, cruel sense of irony, they both understood, because they both felt the same way.

Their meisters always came first.

And it wasn't due to a sense of duty, a sense of code or binding that was against their will. It was exactly the opposite. She _loved_ Kim. That was never the question. It wasn't that she didn't love him enough - it was that nothing would ever compare. She wouldn't let it.

His fingertips danced along the back of her palm. Harvar didn't initiate; rather, she was unsure of who exactly touched who first. It didn't matter - his touch sent small sparks shooting down her hand, along her bloodstream - and she realized she _could_ discern the difference between his lightning and _this_. The Lightning Spear in him made the hair at her neck stand on end; _these_ sparks lit her entire being.

He was overwhelming.

She didn't know what drove her. Was it rejection? Need? Attraction? Respect? All of the above? Jackie didn't dwell. But her eyes closed - and for five seconds, all she knew, with a violent certainty, was a soft, surprisingly gentle press against her mouth.

As he pulled away, she could still feel the sparks dance on her lips.

It was frustrating - so _frustrating -_ as the words came and gone, never once _alive_ enough to actually pass through her throat. Instead, she sat numbly, and though she looked, she didn't _see._ The sparks jumped off her lips and dissolved deep into each muscle of her mouth, spreading like wildfire through her capillaries, igniting her very body. She was _buzzing_. Tension snapped and sparked and for several, reckless moments, she wanted nothing more but to press her lips once more against him. If only to get another taste of the sparks, if only to sate her need for companionship, if only for another taste of him - which was so _sweet,_ and so fleeting, and so unbearably unreal that she wasn't sure if she were in denial that he kissed her, that she liked him, that _any_ of this was happening.

Another person passed by. And with their movements, she felt her hair lift with the motion, carried ever so slightly by the generated breeze, before falling against her arm, tangibly cool against her flushed skin.

It was as if nothing happened and yet _everything did._ Jackie glanced and was surprised to find herself even a bit shy _._ Not as if she regretted it one bit. But she met an equally hesitant glance - just a quick one, only his eyes moving as the rest of him pointed forward. In typical Harvar fashion, he made no move of acknowledgement.

Jackie broke the contact first.

She took in a deep, almost shuddering breath. With the pad of her finger, she brushed along his palm. It was warm, even to her ownskin. The familiar melange of sparks eased their way up her arm, a combination of his natural and her own reactory ones. If she could put colours to the sensations, then she'd see in blues and whites and oranges, flashing like fireworks before her irises.

Simply, easily, and just as mutually - confusingly - their fingers twine together. She didn't know who kissed who; she didn't know who did what. Only one thing was certain: his hand was in hers, and his fingers were too big -too long. They furled around the back of hand, curling and settling into the dimples of her knuckles. Her own, slimmer digits ached from the stretch, and all the while the contact snapped, popping along her veins, settling into warmth, uneasy.

She exhaled.

There was still much to say, much to discuss. Even if they did, she already knew where it would go. Even in these fragile moments, where he was _close_ enough to touch, where she felt free enough to be like the protagonists in the books she'd read - giggly, in love, _normal._ The worst part was, was thatshe knew all of it was easy enough to shatter.

No. For now, Jacqueline was content to just be like this.


	5. Chapter 5

Breakfast wasn't normally a warning bell that went off in one's head. Jacqueline was an exception. Breakfast meant Kim was awake; breakfast meant that Jacqueline didn't have to wake her meister up. The smell of coffee wafted into her room, along with the warmth of something vaguely sweet. Pancakes, or french toast, Jackie reckoned, as she wrestled on a shirt and kicked open her door.

"You're awake," she said redundantly, raising an eyebrow at the plate already on the table. "Ox must've seriously pissed you off. How bad was that fight, anyways?"

Her pink-haired meister shot her a look, if only softened by the fluffy apron and the tightly gripped spatula that oozed batter into a bowl. Jackie took the cue to go the fridge, pulling a jug of orange juice from the depths.

"I just wanted to make breakfast, that's all," was Kim's unconvincing excuse. The Demon Lantern said nothing, only taking the liberty to reach for their glasses, filling each with juice. Kim sauntered over, piping hot pan in hand, the sweet haze of pancakes and heat hitting Jackie's senses. For a brief moment, she lost herself in the warmth of the food - and then it was gone, returned to the stove, two pancakes plated and waiting for her.

As she cut a piece and speared it with her fork, Kim's voice cut into her thoughts. "What's got you so happy?"

She's long since stopped questioning when something as subtle as _happiness_ affected her demeanor. It was as if she were never happy, the way Kim's put it, and yet the subtle jitters of her excitement were, as she supposed, not so easily disguised.

Jackie shrugged.

If there was anything she couldn't do, it was lie to Kim. At least her meister was able to discern her avoidance to the topic; Kim didn't press. The silence instead was covered by the ambient sounds of cutlery and chewing, the clinking of glasses as their cups were replaced on the table.

It didn't take long to finish their breakfast, even less as they placed their used dishes into the washer. Their conversation was idle, comprised of not much aside from their daily going ons in their meister and weapon specific classes. There _was_ one person they didn't talk about in particular. Kim may act nonchalant about her love life, but in front of her weapon it was often a topic. Whether it was due to Kim being truthful to herself, or even an outlet so that she could maintain the facade of nonchalance, all the Jackie knew for certain was that she was the one most privileged to be on the receiving end of these conversations. Hence why the absence of Ox was quite noticeable, even as they laced their shoes and closed the door behind them.

 **...**

Harvar was there, perched on the ledge of an archway by the courtyard of Shibusen. For the first time, his meister wasn't in the vicinity. It was as if he was at their usual spot without the need, or excuse, for his meister's presence to explain his own; that he was here of his own volition. Jacqueline may have been suspicious if it weren't for the fact that it was the very same for her.

She took the spot beside him, and for several heartbeats she was suddenly and painfully unsure of what to do with herself. Something as straightforward as people watching became calculated, questioning, until she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

His hand found hers first. Familiar sparks danced along her fingertips, and even after all this time, they didn't feel like home. But that's what she liked about it, about him - Harvar's warmth made her feel _alive_.

So when she asked him out, away from their people watching and house sharing and meister minding, she was fully aware of every word that passed through her mouth. Each of them were willed, each were of her own conscience.

For once.

Harvar knew it, too; a small, wry smile spread across his lips, and his agreement only came in the form of a firm nod. He rose first, his grip, while tight, was still delicate. Jackie let him pull her to her feet. They stood there for a moment longer until he dropped his arm, her hand going with him, before they rested lightly at their sides, fingers entwined. It was casual, it was easy, it was extremely _public,_ and yet Jacqueline didn't care. Harvar didn't seem to, either, and though it was no display, he didn't bother hiding their joined hands. A faint, prickly heat ignited at the base of her stomach at the prospect, and maybe her lofty nonchalance wasn't as nonchalant as she'd initially thought.

Their activity consisted mostly of the same - people watching, but in a bigger space, with coffees. It was powerfully reminiscent of the first time they'd gone out, Jackie noted, and whether it was intentional or not, she didn't know. Instead, she took her coffee silently, and their conversation was low - just as mindless, easy, and the noise in her heart louder than it had ever been.

He'd taken her to casually peruse the streets of Death City, maintaining a light conversation despite the noise around them. In the momentary lapses of silence, Jacqueline could hear the rhythmic tapping of her shoes, syncopated against his own footsteps in an unsteady rhythm. Jacqueline was too preoccupied by the warmth, their footsteps, what was essentially a sensory overload, to notice when Harvar jerked their hands to a stop. The Demon Lantern didn't have to strain to see who he saw, just the flash of blue hair was enough to forewarn her of what she'd have to face. Sure enough, as Black Star rounded the corner, to her mild surprise, it wasn't his weapon at his side. Instead, it was Soul, shoulder slack and his red eyes their usual interesting combination of impassive and observant. While they both raised their own hands in greeting, it didn't take long for the blue-haired meister to zero in on their joined hands.

She knew what the words would be before Black Star even opened his mouth.

"Are you guys on a date?"

"Yes," was Harvar's response, so quick, so immediate, so _unconcerned._ Like it was the most simple answer in the world, as if this had been a regular occurrence much more frequently than the one time it's been so far. Yet, in stark contrast to Harvar's ease with the subject, sudden anxiety in the form of nervous flitting butterflies erupted in her stomach. Jacqueline swallowed them down, and instead focused on whether the expression on Soul's face was caused by his friend's untimely question, or the easy and instantaneous response to the said query. Black Star's face _was_ amusing in its own right.

The next question, thankfully, was unspoken, perhaps because Black Star had the foresight to not voice it, lest he have another shock like the previous. And Black Star was rarely taken aback as he'd been before. Yet Jacqueline knew exactly what was on their minds - where were their meisters? Was it a double date?

The same, suddenly insistent butterflies resurfaced in the base of her gut. If Harvar was feeling anything similar, she knew he could hide it well. Instead, she merely squeezed his hand. "We'll see you around," she said, and she politely stepped aside, Harvar mirroring her movements. The two males passed them, their expressions still bewildered. Finally alone again, Jacqueline couldn't help the almost nervous giggle that bubbled at her lips; Harvar's hand was warmer than usual, if anything more pointed, and she suddenly had a feeling that the Lightning Spear was somehow facing similar anxieties to hers.

As her snickers faded to a sigh, she caught Harvar's eye. Even beneath tinted lenses, convincing amusement lit his irises. He held her gaze for several moments more, and without so much as another gesture or signal, they both continued on their way.

This time, they continued their walk uninterrupted. Save the waitress's semi-questioning look as they sat down at their dinner table together, they didn't garner any other glances or questions. After all, the real celebrities weren't them, and even if they were given any recognition, it was generally their meisters.

But Jacqueline was okay with it - _really_ okay with it. She knew who was really meant to take center stage. Just the acknowledgement of their meisters had quelled the insistent butterflies in her stomach. If it meant she was able to maintain some anonymity, if it meant she could be herself with him, unhindered by others aside from their friends, then she'd gladly take the one well-informed waitress over a myriad of fans, or heaps of letters requesting a partnership change.

 **...**

"You. Spill."

There was a hint of authority in Kim's voice that Jackie rarely heard nowadays. Her meister was on their shared couch, a tea already nestled firmly in the meister's hands. There was a similar cup on the table beside her, whether a bargaining chip or an advance apology for the line of questioning Kim was about to subject her to, Jacqueline simply plopped down beside her meister, scooping the mug with her own, greedy hands.

Jacqueline raised the cup to her lips, the taste of tea still on her tongue before Kim began her assault again. "I didn't know you and Harvar…"

"Have a thing?"

Kim nodded at Jackie's modest offering. One quick search in her eyes told the Demon Lantern that she didn't have to be on her guard - her meister seemed genuinely interested, yet there was something else in her gaze that was powerful. Jacqueline sighed and placed the mug back onto the coffee table, the absence of warmth suddenly on the forefront of her mind. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret from you Kim, I promise," she said.

Kim's expression softened. "It's not that, really, that I was thinking about."

And then it cracked; while there was still interest in her eyes, Jacqueline could suddenly discern what exactly _was_ in still in her mind. Concern. "What are youthinking about?"

The meister took a long inhale, before exhaling it through her nose. "Jacqueline, you know I love you, right?"

Her heart did an awkward little flip flop. "I love you, too," she responded automatically.

"I know," responded Kim, slowly, carefully. "But ever since we became partners, I feel like there's been an imbalance. I've had a secret you had to keep, you had to swear loyalty to me." And then the words were tumbling out of her mouth, quick, hurried. "You left Shibusen for me. You listen to me talk about Ox all the time. You do all these things for me, and I…"

Jackie reached out instinctively, laying her hand over her meister's. _Ah._ There was the warmth she genuinely missed - the feeling that she was at _home_. The warm, serene comfort that was purely _Kim,_ and whether it was due to temperatures or wavelengths, she couldn't quite discern.

"I'd do it all again in a heartbeat," Jacqueline said lowly.

Kim's eyes snapped up to hers. "But that's what I'm afraid of, Jackie. You - Harvar - are you _happy_?"

Jacqueline paused.

The weight of her words suddenly made sense. Kim's noticed it - of _course_ she noticed it - their closeness, but how easily they were wrenched apart if their meisters so wanted it. Kim came first. Kim had _always_ come first. Kim knew it, Harvar knew it from the day they both acknowledged that there was someone else who would come first over each other. Was it _happiness?_

Jacqueline didn't know. She didn't _want_ to know.

"Harvar makes me happy," she responded instead, and that much wasn't a lie. The butterflies were back, fluttering a desperate dance deep within her. Kim clearly understood her careful word choices, noting what was left unsaid.

"But I want you to _be_ happy."

"I am," she responded immediately. Kim's eyes were sympathetic, if not a little frustrated. She gave Jackie a quick pat on the leg. And the _thank you_ that blew unvoiced from her lips didn't go unnoticed by her.

Jacqueline knew from the beginning. She knew she was _nothing_ without Kim - and if she'd gone, if Jacqueline were left alone, she'd be astray.

Lost.

And maybe that's what they were - her and Harvar. Lost. Even moreso now that their meisters hadn't gone over and made up after their fight. But she was slowly growing certain of one thing: that overtime,her own feelings grew to be _more_ than that.

The real question was, was it enough?


	6. Chapter 6

Jacqueline wasn't expecting anything spectacular. When she opened the door, she wasn't expecting the loft to be draped in red, she didn't expect a wine bottle at the table, three languidly flickering candles set in a triangle as the centerpiece. She didn't expect the quiet lull of music, the nuanced lilt of some singer she didn't recognize crooning into the microphone in rhythm with the soft pulses of the beat.

Luckily, Harvar hadn't prepared any of that. If he _had_ , surely she would've been shocked - thought that he was beside himself, _wasn't_ himself, for only a cheap imitation of Harvar would go out of the way for a romantic gesture such as this. Instead, she could smell the faint aroma of tomato sauce from somewhere, and the lack of telltale takeout bags told Jacqueline that Harvar had done something more than usual.

And there he was, pouring over the stovetop, only waving a hand to her as Jacqueline shrugged out of her coat and peeled off her shoes. "You're cooking?" she asked redundantly, and she swore she saw a half smile creep onto the corner of his lips as he didn't bother with a response, only lifting the lid to a pot on the range. Immediately, the spicy smell of whatever pasta he had simmering hit her senses. She all but enthusiastically tossed her belongings on the couch before dancing around the counters.

"Can I help?"

He gave her a quick look beneath his glasses before another smile crept on his lips. "Want to grab the drinks?"

She didn't need to be told twice. With easy familiarity she pried open the fridge door. Her eyes caught on the frosted green glass of wine that sat in the middle of the shelf. "Oh, so you did-"

His hand on was hers, gentle, and with light pressure he lowered their joined palms. "Actually, that's Ox's."

The unspoken understanding cracked between them. "Oh," Jacqueline said softly.

For a moment, the Lightning Spear looked as conflicted as he could, beit with his rather emotionless expressions. Then he shook his head. "I think Ox would like to keep his bottle for… later."

"I didn't realize they were meeting today," Jacqueline said conversationally. Harvar glanced at her again. She sighed. "Or maybe his date of choice was the library."

"Not by choice, I'm sure," Harvar said lowly as he removed the lid to his concoction from the stove. Jacqueline sighed and reached into the back of the fridge, pulling the water cooler out instead. The rest of dinner preparation consisted of quiet tasks, the delightful quashing of pasta onto porcelain plates, the delicate tinkle of glass as she poured out two flutes with water.

They settled on the usual unmade table. At least Harvar had cleared the strewn textbooks and files from its usual place - only to be unceremoniously dumped with the rest of the clutter on the ottoman. She gave a quick smirk at the thought and only when she lifted her eyes did she catch him studying her. "What?" she asked reflexively.

Harvar leaned back on his chair, his expression one of thoughtfulness as opposed to what other expressions may have been cliche to the occasion. "We're eating together," he said simply.

Jacqueline couldn't help but to laugh as she speared a piece of the tortellini on her fork. "And you made me dinner," she added.

A small smile tugged on the corner of his lips. "I did."

The Demon Lantern waved her fork once, the piece of pasta helpless in the clutches of the silverware. "Thank you, by the way."

"You're welcome."

Something was bothering him, enough so that Harvar only poked at one of his tortellinis. She raised an eyebrow at the notion and yet she understood it all. Something didn't feel particularly _right_ , even moreso knowing now that Ox wasn't with Kim. It - It was because - "They're not together today."

"No." Harvar set his fork down, something as subtle as a sigh blowing from his lips. Jacqueline had never quite seen him this way before - mildly confused, if not taken aback by his own forwardness (something about that very notion was briefly amusing to her, too), hesitation set in his gaze.

She reached out with her other hand, skimming along the bone of his forearm, before letting her fingers linger by back of his palm, his own hand. He flipped it in response, allowing Jacqueline access to draw lazy circles into the grooves of his skin. She marvelled in the way heat seemed to glide off her fingers, meeting little sparks that sank in an irregular rhythm over her own body.

Her eyes caught his - the normally aloof brown suddenly snapping into awareness.

"We have nothing to apologize for, regardless of our Meisters." And even as the words left her mouth, the same hesitation that certainly fueled him only danced in her stomach, tainting her thoughts to reflect the opposite of what she'd just said. Jacqueline swallowed it down, pushing the strength back into her voice so that maybe _he'd_ believe her.

"This is what _we_ want. What I want."

At least her words were true, despite them somehow seeming weak in the lingering night air.

But his expression remained in a steady neutral, only meeting hers with slow deliberateness. And yet, underneath the orange tint of his lenses, the hard lines of his face, something like gratitude lit his features, brought a spark of something beyond careful apathy in his gaze. A deeper emotion, too, just behind his eyes, that Jacqueline was almost afraid to touch upon.

So she lowered her concentration back to her food, still steaming hot, enticing aromas suddenly appealing to her newfound hunger. She raised the one tortellini again, biting down. Almost immediately, warmth exploded into her mouth, the taste of tomato, cheese, and vague spiciness flooded her senses. The textures of the food rolled against her tongue, easy to distinguish, comforting in several more ways than one.

The warmth dissolved in her throat, her mouth, her stomach. _Delicious,_ she thought, _absolutely delicious._

 ** _..._**

His voice was loud, but hers was louder - shrill in the only way Kim's could be, ripping through several octaves at once. Jacqueline swore her meister would try to strangle the guy - something about him not _calling her_ and _it was Valentines day_ and it might've been funny if her meister wasn't _crying._ Crying because it wasn't the cause of the argument, but in her fury all the insignificant details became more apparent, such as this one. And then her hands _did_ lunge at him, and Jacqueline jerked forwards, a hand raised to catch Kim's before the pink haired witch did something she'd regret.

Of course, Harvar was faster.

So fast she didn't even see - he twisted so that his body shielding his own meisters, one hand crackling with electricity, the other having already rather violently knocked Kim's hand away from striking the side of his face.

 _True_ fury spiked in her meister's eyes, bright white and blinding.

"Kim," Jacqueline pleaded.

" _No,_ Jackie - I can't - _I,"_ words seemed to fail Kim, mild hysteria instead leaving her sputtering - _fuming_ , and Jacqueline swore even if she weren't Kim's partner, she could feel the distress and anger and pinpricks of fury spiking from her wavelength. She tried to do something, _anything,_ to soothe the emotions that rolled from her,but each time she tried, it was as if Kim had stung her - the heat unbearable, so different from the comforting warmth she'd come to associate with her meister. Painful, poignant, she recoiled away, mentally hissing at the contact, before she tried again.

Kim's anger soon became her anger. Jacqueline inhaled once, her mind furiously grasping at an attempt to steady herself. But soon she could no longer discern her attempts at calmness, as her body craved the heat, no matter the pain, and she turned her gaze to the perpetrator.

Only to meet Harvar's gaze.

But there was nothing comforting in his eyes, no silent reassurance that this will pass. She only met cold onyx - similarly to her own, as if they'd both done the same thing - both did what good weapons do.

Support their meisters - become one with their meisters.

Anger flared at her stomach - angry because of Kim, angry because she _was_ Kim, angry because he didn't choose her, angry because she couldn't choose him. Angry because he was Harvar, angry because she was Jacqueline, angry that this decision had been made long before the situation was ever close to presenting itself. Angry because this was it - this was the only way.

It became perfectly clear to her then: that the last time they didn't choose. It was natural consequence, and they were forced apart by the sheer follow through of events. Now, they made their choice.

She could feel it, the same blue warmth that she'd embraced so often - and even as angry as it was, spitting and sputtering sparks at her, it never once _scared_ her. Even that one time, all those years ago, when her conscious was fogged yet his intention still painfully clear, when he unleashed enough voltage to override her system, she was never _scared_ of him. She wasn't scared then, and she wasn't scared now.

But there was only one thing she could do.

She ripped her gaze away from his.

" _Leave me alone, Ox._ "

The words were so loud, so angry, so encompassing, that they might as well have been hers.

She could feel the presence behind him recoil, she could feel the anger the fury the _rage,_ the stubborn and scathing response so viscerally, it could've been his.

At the end of the day, it _was_ hers, and it _was_ his.

When Kim stormed off, Jacqueline refused to leave her arm. Even when her mind screamed, even when a small part of her that wanted _nothing_ to do with this tried to fight, she didn't turn around once. At that moment, she wasn't Jacqueline as he wasn't Harvar; she was Kim's partner, and he Ox's.

 **...**

"So this is it, isn't it?"

It was like the first time they'd sat down together. No conscious choice, no thought, nothing but pure instinct that had brought them together. Seated in a coffee shop, a polite distance away from each other, no more _intimacy_ between them.

No shared couches, no twined fingers, no laughs - no people watching - no Valentines dinner, tasting of tomato sauce and basil and cheese tortellini.

And yet, he wasn't exactly cold. His brow wasn't creased, his eyes weren't hard, daring. If anything, a strange resignation came from him, like he'd given up, and though it flared at Jacqueline's veins - a part of her wanted him to _try,_ damn it - it would always be hypocritical, because she knew _she_ couldn't do what he wanted.

So she saved him the trouble and spoke first.

"We'll _never_ be able to put each other first, will we?"

The words hung there, heavy, and yet somehow a relief - for it was something they'd both known, forever now, perhaps when they'd first begun to feel interest in one another, acknowledged or not. She'd always _known,_ but part of her wished, hoped, prayed, that it wasn't the reality. And yet reality dictated that this would happen, that this conversation would always happen, and they'd sit like this - across from each other, coffee cups in hand, prickling tension between them.

He sighed, breaking her out of the lull of her spell. "No. We won't."

And it was there - the silent curse, the silent damnation of the fact that they were both weapons, weapons whose meisters were involved, weapons who were bound to other people before them. If it were just one of them - just _one -_ maybe it would've been okay. Jacqueline had feverishly wished it were so - since the first time they'd sat down together, not because of their meister's meeting, but of their own pure volition. She thought that it - _this -_ would be possible, as her confidence grew, as _his_ grew, as she was reminded again and _again_ that she was her own person, her own _life_. But she couldn't deny that, ever since becoming a Weapon, she was so much more than beyond herself.

For the same reason they both sat here now, their lives had never been theirs to control.

Words didn't seem necessary anymore. Jacqueline didn't cry. The bitter taste of coffee washed away the memories of basil and tomato in her mouth, the coating that microwave popcorn left against her tongue, the vaguely spicy taste of his lips on hers. Vaguely, she wondered if he doing the same, trying to erase every sensation they ever shared.

His eyes hadn't met hers since she'd sat down. He seemed so far, even though Jacqueline knew if she just reached - just a _little -_ she could feel the warmth of his wavelength. She was no longer selfish, though, as she saw his hand drawing indiscernible patterns into the table. It didn't matter anymore. _It didn't matter anymore._

And she tried to tell herself that it was, yet again, the follow through of events, natural coincidence, that brought their hands together once more.

But it wasn't. It _wasn't._ It wasn't because of their duties as weapons, wasn't anything other than _herself,_ and _himself_ , that made this happen. _I want this._ The words echoed clearly in her mind - and Jacqueline forced herself to look down at their joined hands.

She inhaled once.

He exhaled out.

They were weapons, they couldn't put each other first, they were bound to people beyond them, to a cause and a purpose that superseded them.

But they'd try.

 _They'd try._


	7. Epilogue

_Thanks for sticking around for the culmination of this story. Please leave a review so I know what to do for next time! Thanks again to the organizers of Resbang and my lovely betas and friends who encouraged me to finish this story. They didn't want to be written - they'd rather remain side characters - but I'm glad they finally got their story out there. Don't forget to check out xxrei42xx's art on tumblr. Peace and love, see you guys next time._

* * *

Her phone began to sing, a punctuated rhythm that was only assigned to one person, and it shattered the tranquility of the silence.

She rolled over, careful not to disturb him, and answered with a groan.

" _Sorry to wake you up. I need you here."_

Three parts of her were already awake - already gathering her clothes, already packing, already writing a quick note on the fridge.

One part of her asked a simple question. "Is it urgent?"

There was pause on the other end, and then the response that followed seemed to be spoken through a smile. " _I suppose not."_

Maybe she was imagining it, or maybe she'd known her meister so well that she could feel the emotion - the warmth - that came from her dulcet voice. "I can meet you later then?"

" _Lunch?"_

"Sounds good. Bye, Kim."

Jacqueline rolled over, trying to ignore the nervous, betraying, _panicked_ beating in her chest. She'd expected something worse to happen, if not Kim's complete (and irrational, as she never would) disapproval, then perhaps a bolt of lightning to her chest for defying her born duty.

Or maybe, she really could learn to become her own person.

After all, Jacqueline thought, as she flopped back on the bed, this was what she chose, what she wanted.


End file.
